


Control

by holyhephaestus



Category: Avengers (Comics), Black Widow (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Assassins In Love, Ballet, Bisexual Female Character, Black Widow backstory, Canon Compliant, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Control, Deaf Clint Barton, F/F, F/M, Gen, Genderqueer Bucky Barnes, Halsey - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Past Brainwashing, Pre-Avengers (2012), Red Room, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, THATS RIGHT HALSEY, This is emotional, nothing explicit dw, queer women!, the tags are longer than the description whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-01 22:50:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5223995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holyhephaestus/pseuds/holyhephaestus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before she was Natasha, before she was the Black Widow, she was Natalia.<br/>This is not a bedtime story. This is not the story you tell to your children.<br/>She has red in her ledger.<br/>There is a girl who can dance, who can kill a man with her bare hands. There is a legend trying to atone. There is a woman with a family for the first time.<br/>This is her story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. CONTROL

They send me away to find them a fortune

A chest filled with diamonds and gold

The house was awake

With shadows and monsters

The hallways they echoed and groaned

 

I sat alone, in bed 'til the morning

I'm crying, "They're coming for me"

And I tried to hold these secrets inside me

My mind's like a deadly disease

 

I'm bigger than my body

I'm colder than this home

I'm meaner than my demons

I'm bigger than these bones

 

And all the kids cried out,

"Please stop, you're scaring me"

I can't help this awful energy

Goddamn right, you should be scared of me

Who is in control?

 

I paced around for hours, on empty

I jumped at the slightest of sounds

And I couldn't stand the person inside me

I turned all the mirrors around

 

I'm bigger than my body

I'm colder than this home

I'm meaner than my demons

I'm bigger than these bones

 

And all the kids cried out,

"Please stop, you're scaring me"

I can't help this awful energy

Goddamn right, you should be scared of me

Who is in control?

 

I'm well acquainted

With villains that live in my bed

They beg me to write them

So they'll never die when I'm dead

 

And I've grown familiar

With villains that live in my head

They beg me to write them

So I'll never die when I'm dead

 

I'm bigger than my body

I'm colder than this home

I'm meaner than my demons

I'm bigger than these bones

 

And all the kids cried out,

"Please stop, you're scaring me"

I can't help this awful energy

Goddamn right, you should be scared of me

Who is in control?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER AND WARNINGS: I do not own the words on this page. These are the lyrics to Halsey's 'Control', which I strongly recommend that you listen to when reading, as there will be several motifs repeated throughout this story.
> 
> I also do not own the characters in this story; they belong to MARVEL, however, I do own the plot which is copyrighted (if you have any questions about this/unsure of what you can/cannot do with this fic, message me first please!!)
> 
> This fic will get pretty dark, so trigger warnings for: self-hatred; non-graphic death/murder; suicidal thoughts; mentions of past child abuse; non-graphic violence; past rape/non-con elements (MENTIONED ONLY); references to suicide.
> 
> Trigger warnings will be updated if anybody notices anything that I have forgotten to put up a warning for, and comments


	2. The Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for mild gore, mentions of non-con, characters with low self-esteem, vaguely suicidal thoughts, mentions of forced sterilization, murder. If any of these might trigger you, this is not the story for you.

_They send me away to find them a fortune_

_A chest filled with diamonds and gold_

_The house was awake, the shadows and monsters_

_The hallways, they echoed and groaned_

 

_I sat alone, in bed till the morning_

_I'm crying, "They're coming for me"_

_And I tried to hold these secrets inside me_

_My mind's like a deadly disease_

* * *

 

Natalia's hair was very red against the white of the pillows, and the hand that carded through it was silver. Smoke drifted up from the general vicinity of the grand four-poster bed as the two occupants exhaled their cigarette smoke, watching how it was stark against the cold winter air.

"Ви повинні кров у волоссі" [1] The man with the metal arm said in Ukrainian. It wasn't his mother language, and it wasn't Russian that they usually spoke in. Natalia knew that he hadn't quite shed his cover, but it was okay, because she never quite let go of hers either. He was clumsy with his languages, didn't have her knack for sounding like he was who he was. The Room called him Winter Soldier, but the girls called him The American. Natalia let herself think of the other girls back in the Room, the ones that hated and admired her for being sent on missions, of the way that they would fight, would train, would hurt until hurting was the only thing they could think of. Abruptly, she stood from the bed, the sheet wrapped around her pale body like a waterfall.

"я зробив з крові, люба"[2] Natalia said dryly, staring out of the window at the bleak city below. In the reflection of the window she could see her face- made up as Nadia, a young intern at a major office firm in Kiev who was more than willing to sleep her way up the ladder. As she made her way to the bathroom, and what would be the only chance at hot water for until her next mission, she stepped over the bloodied body of her target. The Room didn't care if he lived or died, her mission was only to receive some information about the company's move to make alliances with Americans, however after some particularly distasteful comments about what she could do with a pretty mouth like hers, breaking his neck was satisfying. The Solider had done the rest in his rage.

Information. It was at the heart of everything, every decision made, every step taken, greater than diamonds and gold. The Room needed people like the Soldier to take the shots where the Room couldn't be involved, and to melt into the shadows afterwards, a ghost story. But they also need information, something real and tangible, something lovely and deadly- the Room needed a Black Widow. And Natalia had every intention of becoming the Black Widow, even knowing that she would have to kill every one of the girls back in Stalingrad.

She stood under the hot water and silently watched the red creep down the drain. There used to be twenty-eight ~~murderers girls~~ agents, but now, at the later stages, there were only six left. Natalia had killed many of them herself. She thought of the girls who were left, how they were so much stronger, swifter and more intelligent than the others. She thought of Yelena, of blonde hair tangled in her blood-stained hands, of heat and silenced gasps in dark rooms. She thought of having to snap her neck as she had so many others, and closed her eyes.

She wanted to scream, but the Room had eyes everywhere, and if they heard her scream, they would know about the Soldier, and they would reset him. There had been a time in training, where he'd smirked at one of the girls and called her 'doll face' in an American twang. She remembered the pain in his eyes as they took him to the chair, to take away his mind again. They all knew what the chair meant, even if they didn't know their birthdays. Natalia didn't even know who she was, except that she was Red, and that she was going to be the Black Widow.

She stood under the flow of water and didn't scream.

* * *

 

Nancy Reed was a friendly face in any crowd. She was the type of girl who would get drinks brought for her at bars, but always remained loyal to her boyfriend Damien, and ended up setting those men up with friends. Everyone wanted to be friends with Nancy. Except one night, Nancy would call the cops, finding Damien bloody and beaten on the couch. She would be sent home after breaking down in tears, only to never be seen again, not a trace of who she was left behind. The only clue the cops had was the bloody hourglass painted on the wall.

Natalia Romanova was a nightmare painted in red and black. She was a killer, a predator, a lover, a knife. She was the Black Widow, a trail of corpses and secrets behind her. She didn't know her parents, she didn't know who the people in her dreams were, but she knew who to speak to, and who to bow her head and let kiss her neck sloppily in dark corridors. She knew that she could kill any of them with barely any effort. They had done _something_ to her all those years ago, when she was still waiting for her first blood, the only time she would feel that discomfort between her legs. She was stronger, faster, better than any of them. And they knew it. Knew that she could, and would, kill any of them if they gave her reason to. Control. They had to keep her under control, dampen the fire under her bones, keep her docile until they needed that rage. The Soldier had once told her to keep that fie hidden from them, but she wasn't as good as him, couldn't always bite back the acid in her tongue.

So they would break her, and remake her.

She was getting sloppy, she knew. Killing for the sake of it. She knew they were getting tired of her disobedience. There was nothing left to care for, nobody left to keep her herself. She buried her face in the heels of her hands and bit back a feral scream. She thought of Yelena, of arabesques and fifth position, of pointe shoes with blood at the toes, of bruises and soft lips. She thought of ~~James~~ The Soldier, of biting cold metal and firm muscle, of scars and American cigarettes and not knowing their own names but remembering each other. She thought of snapping Yelena's neck, and watching ~~James~~ The Solider being handed over to Hydra like he was a dog.

She let them drag her to the chair.

_At least I won't remember them._

* * *

 

It was almost amusing, breaking into the American’s hotel room, it was so easy. She grinned up at the camera on the bookshelf, imagining his team yelling at each other through their comm systems, telling the man with the bow to get back to the room and stop her. By the time he did get back, a minute faster than she had expected, she had helped herself to a glass of scotch, and was settled in the arm chair by the window.

“Don’t remember giving you a key,” He said, shutting the door behind him, his bow tucked under his arm. He gave an evaluating look, “Not that you need one, clearly.”

Natalia swirled the amber liquid in the glass around, and gave him a dangerous look. “Maybe I just wanted to meet the man who’s been following me for the past month. Clint Barton, I presume.” She set the tumbler on the mahogany side-table carefully, then suddenly leaped at him. He was ready though, slamming her down hard on the flooring, sliding his bow as far away from her as possible. Natalia reached out for the side table, slamming it down on his arm hard enough for him to momentarily let go of her. Throwing the remaining scotch at his face, she smashed the glass on the floor, holding the sharpest part to the man's throat. He knocked it out of her hand, kicking her across the floor. Before she could stand, Barton was looming over her, an arrow nocked on his bow, pointed straight at her heart.

"You did that on purpose." He said firmly, not wavering at all. "You want me to kill you."

She sneered. "Imagine my reputation if I did it myself."

There was a long pause, before Barton spoke again. "Is that why you've been getting sloppy? Hoping someone would catch up with you?"

Natalia didn't reply, fixing him with a stare instead.

“The organisation that I work for-“

“SHIELD.”

“-they took me in when I was rogue. I was a mercenary, and they took me in, and trust me this is much better. You took down the Red Room, by yourself. You could help us out a lot-“

“Are you trying to _recruit_ me?” Natalia said incredulously.

“Yes?” Clint tried.

Natalia laughed harshly. “What would the Americans want with me? Do you know what I am? What I've done?”

Clint stared at her. “You’ve killed people with pot plants. I’ve seen you kill people with _pot plants_.”

She shrugged, the motion fluid. “You still use a bow and arrows. Мы одинаковы.” [3]

He grinned at her, all sharp white teeth and dimples. “And look how well-rounded I turned out!”

Natalia couldn’t stop a smile from creeping onto her face, her first genuine smile since they had taken ~~James~~ _James_. "You're an idiot."

"Is that a yes?"

"Either kill me, or take me away, I don't care." Natalia snapped. _I don't deserve your pity. I'm tired of running. I just want to stop._

Clint apparently had no sense of self-preservation, because he only grinned wider at her. “Let’s check out, and get out of here. I think you’ll have to get in line to tear me apart- Fury’s gonna have my head.”

* * *

 

Natalia allowed herself to be led to a jet, to be handcuffed, and all she could do was stare out the window at the tiny city below her and think: __something’s_ changing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] "You've got blood in your hair"  
> [2] "I'm made of blood, darling"  
> [3] "We're the same."


End file.
